Chapter 15
Jude stepped out of the shower in the guest bathroom at Joe and Ed’s flat, having washed away a day’s worth of city centre dust and rain. Even in high summer, it seemed Manchester’s alleged ‘microclimate’ – the source of its reputation as the wettest city in the UK – was at work.
He’d been caught in a brief storm this morning on his way to a local cafe, where he’d spent a couple of hours fielding irate emails from Larry, as well as dealing with more reasonable questions from his LogicLabs colleagues.
He’d been asked to oversee a fairly bleak project on behalf of a client whose company sold dietary supplements to what Larry had called ‘the worried well’.
Having studied their ingredients and the safety data the firm had made available, Jude thought the likeliest outcome of using any of them would be more frequent – and probably quite urgent – trips to the toilet.
The client had asked LogicLabs to build bespoke systems that would enable hyper-personalised marketing of the supplements.
Internet users’ browsing behaviour, social media profiles and past purchasing activity would be used to build a picture of their particular health concerns, and this would allow for the correct ‘solutions’ to be advertised at them via the websites and channels they frequented.
The maths wasn’t complicated. It was an easy job that offered a quick win, and Jude knew making the client happy would help to get Larry off his case.
Jude’s second soaking of the day had taken place after his lunch with Suni, which – much to his annoyance – he hadn’t managed to turn into dinner instead.
He’d wanted a reason to disappear after this afternoon’s wedding suit fitting, but Suni’s girlfriend was whisking him away for a long weekend in London as soon as she finished work.
Timing snags aside, the conversation with Suni had been interesting. More than interesting. Jude had expected they’d catch up on life stuff over a meal and a pint, but – to his surprise – he’d actually found himself on the receiving end of a pitch for a business partnership.
Suni, whose interest in restaurants seemed non-existent, had nevertheless inherited his parents’ enterprising spirit, and was looking to set up a new venture.
His idea was to create what he’d called a ‘prosocial’ tech agency that offered everything from website builds and social media strategies to AI solutions – but only for clients in the charitable and public sectors, or whose operations were in some way ‘beneficial to humanity’.
Jude hadn’t asked how such benefits would be judged, but reasoned that Suni – with his optimistic disposition, intelligence and aversion to bullshit – was probably as good an arbiter as any.
‘You’re the perfect fit for this,’ Suni had enthused over gastropub burgers and fries – and having been offered a brief but impactful description of Larry.
‘I didn’t think I wanted a partner, but I might now, if you could be persuaded .
. . Imagine being able to run multiple projects like the one you presented in Sheffield, or developing online systems that could help vulnerable people connect in real life .
. . or using data analysis to inform political policy!
’ When Jude had asked how they’d make any of this pay, Suni had been typically ebullient.
‘Organisations want these services – I’ve done the groundwork that proves it.
But they want help from reputable people, at prices they can afford.
We used to talk about stuff like this, remember?
Refusing to become bankers, or academics, or actuaries – doing what we could to make the world a little bit better, instead of much, much worse. ’
Jude had laughed and said he couldn’t imagine being asked for start-up money, or offered a pay cut, in a more compelling fashion.
He’d meant it, too. The contrast between what Suni was suggesting, and what was on offer from Larry, was stark – and alongside how much more himself he’d felt since being back from Australia, it was enough to give him pause.
Wrapped in one of Joe’s posh, Egyptian cotton bath towels, he made his way to the kitchen.
For approximately the seventeenth time since he’d got here last night, Jude marvelled at the stylishness of literally everything in this place.
The apartment itself was as architecturally impressive as its furniture and fittings were elegant.
A split-level property carved out of the corner of an old cotton mill, it boasted exposed brick walls, massive sash windows and original wrought-iron beams. As Jude filled a glass with ice from his brother’s gigantic, shiny fridge-freezer, a key scraped in the lock of the front door.
Joe had said he’d meet everyone else at the tailor’s studio at four thirty, but presumably his appointment at the BBC had been cut short.
Jude turned to say hi to him, only to see Hannah appear in the doorway. She was thoroughly dishevelled, her red-gold hair so drenched it was plastered to her scalp. At the same time as he realised this somehow made her look prettier than ever, he remembered he was almost completely naked.
‘Ohmyfuckinggod!’ she screamed. ‘Shit! Sorry, I—’ The holdall she was carrying hit the floor with a thump, and she hurriedly put a hand across her eyes. It made Jude feel like some sort of flasher.
Jesus. He was irrationally annoyed, now, as well as embarrassed. It wasn’t his fault she’d burst in unannounced. Also, it wasn’t as if he was showing anything she hadn’t seen before. Was the sight of him really so offensive?
‘What are you doing here?’ they both said, at precisely the same time.
Jude sighed. ‘I’ve been here since yesterday evening. I had a work lunch in Manchester today, so it made sense to come early.’
Still shielding her vision, Hannah said: ‘Oh. Similar thing. I met with Joe’s agent earlier and wanted to drop my overnight stuff off before the appointment.’
‘You’re . . . you’re staying over?’
‘Yes. Heading back to Beckford tomorrow morning.’
Fuck. Had Joe done this deliberately? Told Jude he could stay here, knowing Ed would say the same to Hannah – and well aware there was only one spare bedroom?
After the van incident, it seemed stupid even to frame that thought as a question.
But the conundrum of where everyone would sleep tonight was one he’d have to handle later.
‘I’ll just . . . go and get dressed,’ he said. Then, unable to stop himself, he added: ‘But uncover your eyes, for god’s sake. We both know the sight of my bare torso isn’t going to shock you.’
‘It might do,’ Hannah said, slowly lowering her arm. ‘For all I know, you’ve got a giant tattoo on it now. Something mathematical, maybe – a massive equation, right between your pecs.’
He shook with unexpected laughter. ‘Come on. You know I couldn’t take that sort of pain.’
‘That’s true.’ She was looking at him now, her hand by her side. Her cheeks were pink, expression a little guilty. Her gaze was focused firmly on his face.
‘Nothing new here, see?’ Jude said, waving a palm over his stomach, below which he was tightly fisting the bath towel.
He wasn’t quite sure why he was pushing her to look; he was hardly an exhibitionist. But there was something in the awkwardness of the moment that he simply couldn’t tolerate.
He’d never been closer to anyone than he’d once been to Hannah – and the idea that a brief, accidental sighting of his bare chest was now taboo seemed . . . unbearably sad.
Hannah hesitated, then glanced down. Bit her bottom lip.
This had always been a tell: a sign that she was nervous or excited, not fully in charge of her thoughts or emotions. Any outward show of vulnerability was rare, given Hannah’s trademark control and quick-wittedness. Jude liked that he knew all of this. That it was apparently still true.
Their gazes met, and for a second he thought he felt something eager and intense flash between them. A spark of some shared memory they both knew they couldn’t acknowledge.
‘Er. Ahem. Did you say something about clothes?’ she asked, a moment later, redirecting her eyes to stare at the hardwood floor.
‘I did. Yes.’
He abruptly left the room, only to hear her shout, ‘Do you want a cup of tea?’ after him.
This was one way to smooth over the weirdness, he supposed. ‘Yeah, thanks,’ he shouted back.
‘How d’you take it?’ she asked, still yelling from the other room.
After pulling on jeans and a plain navy t-shirt, he re-entered the kitchen. In the time he’d been away, Hannah had brushed her soaking hair and pulled it into a neat knot at the nape of her neck.
‘You know the answer to that,’ he said. ‘Nothing’s changed.’
After he’d said them, he realised his words were loaded with meaning he hadn’t intended. He reached for the mug she held out to him – which contained a strong-ish brew with a splash of milk and no sugar – and decided to change the subject.
‘Since when have you had a key to this place?’
‘Only this morning,’ she said, pulling out a stool from beneath the granite-topped kitchen island and perching on it.
‘And it’s not mine, it’s Mum’s. Ed just likes her to have a key to wherever he’s living – though god knows what the point is when the spare’s fifty miles away.
It’d not be much use in an emergency, would it? ’
Jude laughed. ‘It’s nice that he still relies on her, though. And you, I’m guessing?’
‘Oh yeah,’ Hannah said, smiling wryly and sipping her tea. ‘You don’t grow out of being the little brother – though maybe you know that. You don’t stop being the sensible older sister, either. Truthfully, I’m a bit worried about him at the minute.’
‘Worried about Ed? Why? He’s not having second thoughts, is he?
’ Jude was gripped by a sudden panic that was mostly about how this might affect Joe, but also about what the cancellation of the wedding would mean for him.
To his surprise, he discovered he wouldn’t feel relieved by the removal of his best man responsibilities, or the excuse to head back to Sydney without delay.
Nor by the reprieve from spending time with Ed’s best woman.
Jude realised he’d grown accustomed to the idea that there’d be reason for him and Hannah to keep crossing paths in the next few weeks; had begun to harbour hope that they could salvage a version of what they’d had, even if it was a pale imitation of something that had once been technicolour.
‘No, nothing like that,’ Hannah reassured him.
‘Ed’s mad about Joe, you know he is. It’s more the size and scale of this thing I’m concerned about.
We’ve maxed out the guest list with influencers and media people – Renfrew have literally said they’ll be in breach of fire regulations if we add any more.
And the meeting with Joe’s agent this morning was pretty serious, given it was billed as a “quick catch-up” on the “social and PR plan”.
’ She made finger quotes around the words, but sounded stressed rather than sarcastic.
Jude frowned. ‘But Ed seems OK – he hasn’t said anything to indicate otherwise, has he? And surely all this exposure will be great for you. It’ll raise the profile of your business significantly, won’t it?’
‘It will,’ Hannah agreed, ‘but with all the online fuss Joe’s agent is planning, plus the magazine deal, I think Ed’s starting to feel more freaked out than he’s letting on.
He’s not built for this level of attention.
No judgement, but he’s never sought the spotlight in the way Joe does.
I’ve decided that if I can do anything to turn the dial down on all this public stuff, I will.
I’m certainly going to try and stop it from getting any bigger. ’
‘Are you sure about that? Ed says he’s all right, and most of your competitors would kill for this kind of free advertising.’
Hannah drained her mug and put it down on the counter.
She looked at him steadily. ‘I’m far more concerned about Ed’s happiness than I am about next year’s profits.
And Eventurous is doing just fine. It’s grown every year since I set up.
’ She looked proud of this, and he nodded his approval. She had every right to be.
‘I’m confident I’ll have loads more exciting opportunities – maybe even more celebrity wedding enquiries,’ Hannah continued, ‘but I’ll only ever have one twin brother.
I want him to have a wedding he’ll enjoy – that he’ll look back on with delight, not regret.
You know, sometimes the win isn’t where you might think it is. Where other people tell you it is.’
Jude felt the pure, unadulterated rightness of what Hannah had just said.
His body and brain seemed to light up with it – and with the familiar, fathomless affection that he’d had for her since the day they met.
She was so much smarter than he was, in ways that really mattered.
It baffled him that she’d never seen this herself; but it occurred to him that he, too, might be guilty of forgetting.
Another silence fell. Her words sat between them like a verdict. A judgement. She couldn’t possibly know how he’d spent his working week, or what Suni had proposed earlier today – but he knew what she’d say if she did.
Sometimes, the win isn’t where you might think it is.
Where other people tell you it is. She could have been talking about today, or last month, or almost any time in the past ten years.
All of a sudden, he felt almost ashamed of himself – weak, in comparison with Hannah and her clear-sighted resolve.
How many of his adult decisions merely looked like decisions, he wondered?
How many were thoughtless ‘choices’ he hadn’t consciously made, or steps he’d taken simply because they were next on the path he was already treading?
‘We’d best go,’ Hannah said, glancing at her watch. ‘The appointment’s in half an hour and it’s at least a twenty-minute walk, according to Google Maps.’
Jude looked up and, hopefully invisibly, tried to shake off his spell of introspection. He felt like a slightly drunk person who’d just stumbled from a warm bar into freezing cold, immediately sobering night air.
‘Let’s go, then,’ he said, putting both the empty mugs in the dishwasher and grabbing his wallet. He glanced out of the window at the bright expanse of blue, currently marred by a single grey cloud.
‘For god’s sake, let’s take an umbrella, though. I don’t trust the sky in this city.’